


Musical Me

by Shippershape



Series: Stretch & Dr. Goodkin [24]
Category: Stitchers (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Movie Night, cameron was a theatre nerd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:33:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4765121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shippershape/pseuds/Shippershape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's movie night, and Kirsten is tired of Cameron complaining about her choice of film. She thinks she's chosen the perfect title to get back at him, but it turns out to be even better than she hoped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Musical Me

“Every time you let me pick the movie you complain.” Kirsten reminds Cameron, sifting through his extensive collection of Blu-Rays.

“That’s not true.” He argues, peering at the title in her hand. “But we’ve already seen The Princess Bride twice.” She sighs, fixing him with a pointed look. He throws his hands up in surrender.

“Fine. I’m going to go make popcorn. You choose whatever you want. Except-”

“Go!” Kirsten commands, pointing toward the kitchen. He shuffles off, sulking. She turns back to the movies, which are organized first by genre, then alphabetically. Next to Hercules, she finds a title that surprises her.

“High School Musical?” She reads aloud, glancing back at the kitchen. She can’t imagine why Cameron would have that, but figures that aside from the Princess Bride, it’s probably her best bet at getting back at him for critiquing her choices every week. It’s a blank case, probably a bootleg, and she slides the disc into the player with a smile on her face. He’s going to be extremely annoyed when he comes back to find a Disney Channel special playing, but he _did_ tell her to choose whatever she wants.

It starts off with a shaky camera shot, and Kirsten hasn’t seen many teen musicals in her life, but this seems like unusually bad quality. The frame zooms in, almost as if it was being shot on a camcorder circa 1995. The screen shows a stage, curtain drawn, and Kirsten is beginning to wonder if it will be worth sitting through an hour and a half of this just to piss off Cameron. Then the curtain drops, and so does her jaw.

The scene is set in typical high school play fashion, cardboard trees and a couple ancient pieces of prop furniture. Most of that is unremarkable. But what catches her attention is the teen boy shuffling his way onto stage, belting out a song she’s never heard, but knows she’ll never forget.

“Oh my god.” She leans in closer to the TV, pressing her nose against the screen. Adolescent Cameron dances between the trees, still singing, and even as she sits back against the coffee table she can’t believe what she’s seeing. This isn’t High School Musical the movie. This is a recording of an actual musical that Cameron did in high school. And it’s probably her new favourite thing.

Just as the first song ends, she hears a crash from behind her. She spins around, finding Cameron frozen with horror, the bowl of popcorn on the floor, kernels spilling everywhere.

“Oh god.” He stares at the screen, eyes wide. Kirsten grins.

“That’s what I said.” She picks a piece of popcorn out of the bowl on the floor and tosses it into her mouth.

“Where did you-turn that off!” He lunges for the remote, but she’s too quick for him, snatching it away. He turns pleading eyes on her, but she shakes her head.

“You said we could watch whatever I picked. And I am definitely picking this.” She grabs the bowl off the floor, placing it on the table, and begins to sweep the loose kernels into a pile. He doesn’t move, seemingly in shock. Onscreen, he begins to tap dance. Kirsten lets out a noise of pure delight.

“Please turn that off.” He says stiffly, still standing in a pile of popcorn. She snorts.

“Not a chance.” Instead, she reaches forward and turns up the volume. The sound of Cameron singing fills the room, and the laughter dies in her throat. This song is sadder, something about a brother gone to war, and his voice is so beautiful that it causes a twinge in her chest. Present day Cameron sits down beside her, resigned to his fate. She’s quiet now, listening. The song ends, and she pauses the disc, turning to him.

“What?” He asks, eyeing her warily.

“You never told me you could sing.” She accuses. He blushes.

“I can’t. That was a long time ago, it’s not like I could play sports in high school, so.” He shrugs. She doesn’t believe him.

“Are you saying your talent just spontaneously disappeared?” She asks. He runs his hand through his hair, sighing.

“I don’t know. I don’t sing anymore.” His tone is final, and she suspects there’s a story behind it. But she doesn’t want to push, because he seems on the verge of being genuinely upset. So she settles in beside him, starting the movie again. He’s stiff beside her, and after ten minutes she gives up, turning to him with a knowing look.

“If you want to clean up the popcorn, just do it.” She tells him, rolling her eyes when he springs off the couch to run for the broom and dustpan. It doesn’t bother her anymore, how much of a neat freak he is. There are a lot of things about him that she used to dislike that she now finds endearing, something Camille insists means that she has feelings for Cameron. But Kirsten wouldn’t know how to begin to navigate that conversation with him, so she just generally ignores the fact that being around him makes her happier than she’s ever been. Especially when that time includes miraculous footage of him being a massive theatre nerd in high school.

He returns with the broom, and makes sure that every crumb of popcorn is gone before stashing it back in the pantry.

When he sits back down beside her, she hops to her feet.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” She says. He shrugs, pulling out his phone.

When she comes back, the first thing she notices is that the still frame on the TV screen is gone, replaced by the blue welcome graphic of his Blu-Ray player.

“Cameron.” She says slowly. He looks up from his phone.

“What?”

“Where’s the video?” She asks, crossing her arms across his chest. He frowns.

“I don’t know. I didn’t touch it.” He says innocently. She walks over to the machine, popping the disc tray open, and glaring at him when it’s empty.

“You’re being a real baby, you know that?” She mutters, glancing around the room for where he might have stashed it. She comes up blank.

“Can’t you just let it go? High school was a bad time for me. I would rather not relive it.”

Kirsten picks up on the discomfort in his voice, and sits down next to him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He looks surprised that she’d ask. She’s surprised too, come to think of it. But she cares about him, she realized exactly how much when he was laying on that table in the corpse cassette, the sound of his flat line an eternity if she’d ever know one.

“I got beat up after that play. My mom kept the footage of the musical because she said it was good, but all it does is remind me of getting my face smashed into a locker.”

Kirsten feels a bubble of useless anger for teenage Cameron.

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs.

“I used to love doing musicals, but it wasn’t really worth all the fallout.” He sighs. She absently realizes she’s been stroking his arm as he speaks, but doesn’t stop.

“Kids are horrible.” She says, remembering a time when she was locked in the janitor’s closet for twelve hours because a few of her classmates wanted to see if she’d notice how long it took for them to let her out. “It seemed like you were good at them, for what it’s worth.”

He smiles sadly.

“Any compliment is sterling from you, Stretch.”

She feels bad for bringing all this up, for upsetting him. Hopping off the couch, she grabs a movie at random.

“Okay, well since you vetoed my last choice, we’re watching whatever this is, no complaints.” She holds the case behind her back so neither of them can see it. He rolls his eyes, but nods. “I’m serious Cameron.”

“Alright!” He mutters.

When she holds it up to see what movie it is, she bursts into laughter. He stares at her. She hides the case as she sticks the disc in the machine, and he leaps to his feet when the title menu for the movie pops up.

“You have GOT to be kidding me!” He shouts, throwing a pillow at her. She continues to laugh, so hard that she eventually collapses onto the couch, clutching her stomach. “Kirsten, we are _not_ watching the Princess Bride again.” He warns her. She sticks out her tongue.

“You’ve already used all your veto power for tonight. Sit down.” She pats the couch beside her. He does, grumbling, and she rests her head on his shoulder. She mouths the words along with the actors, and Cameron falls asleep sometime around when Westley dies.

After that night Kirsten makes it a point to take Cameron out for Karaoke at least once a week, and it turns out he can still sing.

Linus plays the footage of Cameron’s musical at their wedding. This time, he doesn’t mind so much.


End file.
